


Speechless

by sprucetree



Category: Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Genre: Annoying others as a love language, Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M, Fake Flirting, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26303911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprucetree/pseuds/sprucetree
Summary: Maybe she doesn't hate him as much as she pretends to.
Relationships: Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner
Comments: 17
Kudos: 65





	Speechless

“What exactly is going on here?” Ambling up to the man in the hallway, Mariner took in the scene. 

In front of her, Boimler was crouching on his knees, right hand currently wavering over rows of power cells lying haphazardly before him while still in their special casings. Next to him, his PADD blinked, its screen showing the code number for each one in a special column and a little green check next to about half of them. Noting her presence, he proudly replied, “I saw that no one had taken inventory of this stockpile for a while, and decided to take it upon myself to do so.” 

She smacked her lips once. “Yeah, you really don’t need to do that.” The fact this man was assigning _himself_ tasks now was honestly too much. But she was bored and had wandered back in this area in particular in order to find him, so she decided to stick around. Tendi and Rutherford were in the holodeck, but she didn’t feel like joining them for some reason.

“I’ve been done with all my other assignments for a few hours, so I figured why not?” 

“Uh sure, ok.” Bending down casually, she snatched one up from the floor before he could stop her, ignoring his measured protests. “Have fun with that.”

“I will,” he retorted, reaching for it with a small scowl on his face. She shuffled to the side just in time to dodge his grasp. Then, lifting the power cell with one hand, she sunk a shot overhanded into the container a few feet away. Landing it perfectly in the casing with a satisfying clink, she whipped her head around to smirk at him.

Silently, he stared back and then stood up from his kneeling position. Keeping eye contact with her the whole time, he pinched the cold metal top between his pointer finger and thumb and flipped it over, placing it back in the container the opposite way it had landed.

“Really?” The word dripped from her mouth covered in a thick coat of sarcasm. 

“Starfleet regulations were very clear about what direction they should be facing,” he stated icily. “Curved blue lines up.” 

“Dude. No one’s going to care.” Full of frustration, Mariner’s voice echoed through the hallway. She felt the tension rising but she couldn’t stop herself from speaking. For some reason, his insistence in following the rules to the letter was getting under her skin more and more lately.

With a flash of irritation, Boimler jabbed his finger at his own chest. “I care!”

Something in his eyes made Mariner swallow her bitterly sarcastic retort and just look at him. The furrow in his brow and the fire in his eyes quickly subsided as he blinked and turned to their right. “You don’t…” He let out a short sigh as he looked down at the power cells, with his PADD in his hand. “You don’t get it.” 

“Yeah, I really don’t.” It was more a definitive statement than a wisecrack. She had to admit, she had no earthly clue where his attachment to rules came from. What good had following them ever gotten her? Stuck on a spaceship commanded by her by-the-book mother, who barely trusted her to do her job, working alongside an equally pedantic workaholic ensign who seemed more interested in listing off information he’d read in a textbook than engaging with any real-life issue unfolding right in front of him. Even when she knew _exactly_ what to do in a situation gone awry, he still deferred to some procedure written years ago by someone they’d never even met. It was like he didn’t even care. No matter what she said or what she did, he didn’t care.

“Maybe you should try to,” he muttered before bending down again. “Considering your usual respect for Starfleet’s regulations.” 

Some unknown emotion welled up inside her at his words. “Just-- how many times is it going to take?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her frustrated tone. Carefully, Boimler ventured to ask, “What do you mean?”

“How many times is it going to take until you trust me?” she spat out, hands thrown up in the air. She could feel herself getting louder with each exchange, but she couldn’t stop. It wasn’t like anyone else was back here anyway. It was just them.

“ _Trust_ you?” Boimler sound incredulous, almost like she had just suggested something far more scandalous. 

“Yes. Trust me!” she repeated, shaking her head once and then continuing. “Like, what the hell, dude? You saw how I saved your ass on that last away mission. And on pretty much every other planet we’ve been to together! Do I need to cite my sources mid-sentence every time I say something just to make sure you believe me? Do you really think I’m that stupid? Do you think I’d screw up stuff on purpose just for shits and giggles?” 

He froze in place, confusion suddenly covering his face. He clearly hadn’t expected this to be the topic she was going to bring up. “I… what?” 

“I mean, hello, the alien parasite attaching itself to your head? Plus, helping out with K’orin on Tulgana IV. Not to mention saving you from getting killed in a damn bar fight. I even stole that stupid passcard for you when I got promoted for a day! You think I’d let you get hurt on purpose? I’m trying to help you!” 

_And the time I faked not knowing what a Ferengi was, then let you brag about it later to everyone at the bar,_ she thought with a flash of frustration. But she decided to not mention that one out loud, even though it would be the perfect time to hit him with the revelation of that incident. Weirdly enough, it felt a bit too far. She didn’t want to break his spirit or make him angry, she just wanted to… 

What did she want to do? Why _was_ she so upset about what he thought of her? The thought crossed her mind, but she quickly waved it away.

Narrowing his eyes, Boimler crossed his arms in front of himself and shot back, “Oh yeah? You helped me by endangering us on a planet with no telecoms because you wanted to hang out with an old friend? Or by sitting and watching that Galadorian spider-cow chew on me for thirty minutes straight? Or hell, all the incredulous remarks about me somehow being able to get a girlfriend? Or the weirdly specific ones about how I act or look or work? Was that all your way of _helping_?” He dragged the last word out, looking more hurt than annoyed. 

His words instantly made her clamp her mouth shut and frown. Memories of the times when she was so frustrated she let her snippiness get the best of her flashed came floating back to the surface. In the back of her mind, contrary to what everyone else seemed to think, she did have a vague feeling she was going overboard sometimes. Sure, his suspicion of her true intentions helping the settlement and his little secret spy mission for her mom had led her to passive-aggressively let him get kicked around a bit by the spider-cow. Was that the best way to handle that situation? Who knew. But it at least made her feel better. For a bit, anyway. She tried to not think about the feeling of regret curling up in her stomach at the current moment. 

And quite frankly, she still had no clue why Barbara’s presence irritated her so much at first. Sure, it started off with pretty standard teasing about the fact Boimler hadn’t been lying about actually dating someone, but each time the two of them called each other pet names or made out, something in Mariner grew more and more certain that the woman was an alien. She had to be. Her gut feeling was rarely wrong, and it was going off like a siren every time she saw the two of them together. The fact that Barb was actually just a chill, normal person actually led Mariner to pursue a friendship with the woman before she left. But that initial feeling… it still haunted her.

Would she ever let Brad Boimler, of all people, know that? Hell no! But she couldn’t think up a good enough retort in the moment to switch the subject. And, annoyingly enough, the more she considered his words, the more she began to see his point.

“I… didn’t know it irritated you that much,” she said plainly. Blinking a few times, she noted the dour expression spread on his face.

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Are you kidding me? All you _do_ is irritate me!” 

For some reason, the words made her shoulders sag. It wasn’t like it was the first time they had sparred verbally, but instead of the feeling of playful annoyance she usually got, a genuine twinge of sadness filled her chest. 

“Oh, come on, Boims. I wouldn’t say that shit to you if I didn’t think you could handle it!” she retorted sharply, folding her arms. “I mean, what? Do you want me to baby you? To lie to you and say nothing’s ever wrong and that you’re perfect? Never joke around because it might hurt your feelings?” 

Letting out a disgusted scoff at her condescending suggestions, he rolled his eyes and twisted his head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “No! I just want you to be…” 

His voice trailed off as he seemed to mentally retreat from the conversation, eyes scanning the ceiling instead of her. “Just forget it,” he muttered as his face fell, turning his attention back to the power cells in front of him. 

Oh no. This conversation wouldn’t be stopping here. No way in hell she’d let the subject drop now. 

“Nah, I got it. You want me to be mushy-gushy? All fake? Spew shit just for the sake of it? Fine.”

Before he could stop her, she stepped forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and pressing down enough she could feel the warmth of his skin through his uniform. She tilted her head and leaned a bit closer so she was speaking almost in his ear.

“Oh, Brad, you’re the best. I just _love_ your smile. And how you’re such a good, steady worker. Not to mention how _handsome_ you look when you’re concentrating hard on something.” 

The words tumbled out of her mouth in an overwrought sugary sweet tone before she could stop herself. She didn’t even know where half those sentences had come from, let alone why they popped into her head so quickly, but she bit her tongue to keep from saying more when she felt him stiffen under her touch. 

Then, she watched in horror as, instead of shooting back a typically snarky response, his cheeks tinged a light pink and he roughly twisted out of her grasp, immediately choosing to whip his head down to focus on the serial numbers on the PADD he was holding.

“Wait, what?” Mariner almost shouted incredulously at his reaction. Instantly, she felt her own face heat up at the realization of what just happened. “W-What the hell, dude?”

He still didn’t look her in the eye, his body turned completely away from her. “ _You_ said it!” he sputtered, sounding panicked for some reason. 

“It was fake! I was exaggerating! Just…” Even as the words left her mouth, she cringed. How less convincing could that excuse sound? Her little roleplay was so over-the-top in her own mind that his genuine reaction caught her off guard. In a major way. 

Nervously scratching the back of her neck, she glanced around the hallway as she tried to calm her pulse down. Still clear of any other ensigns or crew members. Chancing a look back at Boimler, she saw how his gaze was glued to the PADD and his mouth was set in a line, but she couldn’t help but also see his foot tapping nervously against the ground. Up, down, up, down.

“Oh, come on, Boimler, I’m not--” she tried again when he didn’t reply after a few seconds, sounding more and more indignant with each passing moment. “It was _clearly_ a joke.”

She thought back to when the Anabaj alien woman had flirted with him before trying to implant her eggs, all cutesy and charming. Or even what little she had been able to stomach of him and Barbara together. The more she turned it over in her mind, the more clear it was just why he was so flustered. He was a sucker for compliments: not witty banter, not games of chicken, not play fighting. He was weirdly, refreshingly straightforward like that. 

_Why did I say that?_ She had no clue where to go from here, her tongue feeling like sandpaper in her mouth. _Why_ did _I say that?_

Finally, he sighed once; a loud, clear sigh. “Yes, I’m sure it is. Since I know you don’t think I’m handsome,” he stated frigidly, fingers jabbing at the touchscreen. “Or interesting.” 

Feeling her gut unclench just enough to reply, Mariner snorted lightly. “You got it.” For some reason, hearing her own voice say those words made her jaw twitch. 

“Good.” His eyebrows were still furrowed. “Good,” he murmured again, quieter. 

A moment passed where neither one talked, both lost in their own thoughts. 

Something in her told her to leave. Leave the area, leave the hallway. Hell, leave the ship. Instead, she found it in herself to toss a parting over her shoulder as she speedwalked away from the room. “Have fun with your stupid, shitty inventory.”

She didn’t hear a reply.


End file.
